


Urgent Debriefing

by Grenegome



Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Gen, M/M, long suffering!Hendricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grenegome/pseuds/Grenegome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hendricks would say he didn’t get paid enough for this shit, but that’d be a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Urgent Debriefing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Dresden Files Kink Meme.

Hendricks would say he didn’t get paid enough for this shit, but that’d be a lie. John Marcone paid Hendricks more in a month than he could easily spend in a year - there were only so many books and guns a man could fit in an apartment. They’d had words about it in the early days, before Hendricks had realised how very particular Marcone’s views on loyalty were. Johnny liked to do well by his own, and he got... fretful, if he couldn’t. So Hendricks had just shut up about the entire thing and settled for wincing in disbelief every time he saw his bank balance.

Which basically meant Hendricks didn’t get to bitch about insufficient monetary compensation and expensive therapy bills when he got an eyeful of Marcone’s skinny wizard. Again.

Hendricks would have knocked if he’d had any freaking clue that Dresden was in the safe house. But Marcone had gone to his bed alone, and this was a _secret_ secure location, so Hendricks had no reason to expect the boss would have company by morning. Hendricks got out of the habit of knocking around Marcone a long time ago; he was used to slipping in and out as needed, without fanfare, so he hadn’t thought twice about going to wake Marcone up for an emergency debrief on the West situation.

But Marcone was definitely awake. Awake, with a naked Harry Dresden straddling his lap, involved in a deep shameless kiss and not shy about vocalising his appreciation.

Great.

Dresden had his back to the door and was blocking Johnny’s view, so Hendricks’ unscheduled interruption didn’t bring an immediate halt to proceedings. He debated a polite cough, like some kind of butler in an incredibly homoerotic mafia reworking of a comedy of manners. Fuck it. Johnny had sharp ears, he must have heard the door.

Sure enough, Marcone pulled Dresden out of their kiss by his hair, a tender kind of roughness that was fairly typical of their relationship. “Harry? A moment,” Marcone ground out, struggling to disguise the disappointment heavy in his words, a verbal cue for some uncharitable _serves you right_ thoughts on Hendricks’ part.

“Wha- no,” Dresden complained, panting a little; he was more easily distracted than the boss. Maliciously, Hendricks picked his moment to cough.

“Fuck!” Dresden toppled off Marcone, off the entire bed, a lanky tangle of limbs, blankets, confusion and embarrassment. He landed hard, and Hendricks clamped down on a snort of amusement. Blank faced was the way to play things with Dresden; impassive, enforcer looming. It was juvenile, but Hendricks still got a kick out of the way his bulk unnerved Johnny’s fire and brimstone wizard.

“Mr Hendricks?” John asked, propping himself up on his elbows and apparently willing to launch into a civil, businesslike exchange in which they were both going to pretend John wasn’t naked and more than half way to hard. Dresden, however, looked like he might shuffle off this mortal coil from embarrassment alone. He’d covered himself with the displaced blankets, swiftly reddening face the only thing left visible.

“Nickson reported in, boss. You need to hear it.”

“Does he need to hear it right this second, or can we put some clothes on first?” Dresden growled. Sure, Dresden could probably pull the building down around their ears, but it was hard to be wary of someone who was actually fucking _blushing_. Hendricks’ lack of patience at stumbling into Johnny’s sex life _yet again_ sort of spilled over.

“You some kind of exhibitionist?” he snapped back. “You can’t start putting a sock on the doorknob?”

“...was that a euphemism?” Dresden asked, puzzlement rather than smart assery plain on his face. Right. Dresden had never done the college thing, or had to negotiate hook ups in shared accommodation.

“Point taken,” Marcone interrupted, rising from the bed and picking a pair of sweats up from the floor. “We’ll be more considerate in future.” He slipped the pants on. “Let’s reconvene in the living room, Mr Hendricks.”

Hendricks stepped aside, letting John pad out in front of him.

“Sorry,” his boss murmured with a rueful flick of his eyes and an uncharacteristically unguarded smile as soon as they stepped out of Dresden’s earshot. “It was a surprise to see him, I got a little carried away.”

And it was moments like _this_ that meant Hendricks had trouble holding onto any dislike for Dresden; it was healthy for Marcone to let go every once in a while, to enjoy himself without calculating the next six moves of the chess game. The wizard had been MIA for the last three weeks, and Marcone had been getting quieter, tenser, further inside his own head until Dresden came along and dragged him straight back out. Maybe life would be simpler if Johnny could get his rocks off with someone less fucking troublesome, but as far as Hendricks could tell the two of them were actually _going steady_ , Christ. And three weeks of Johnny living chaste had been enough for Hendricks to actually start missing...

oh.

Johnny’s current good mood was due to Dresden coming back, yeah, but it wasn’t like he’d had time to finish letting off steam. Most guys would be pretty pissed over a case of blue balls right about now.

Hendricks cleared his throat. “This can keep ten minutes. If you want... a... ” how the fuck was he supposed to finish that sentence?

“A quickie?” Marcone grinned, quick and sharp. “No. It’ll take me longer than that to talk him round now.”

“Yeah,” Hendricks said, which should maybe be followed by a _sorry_ , but Marcone brought this on himself, sulking wizard and all.

“Never mind; he likes being persuaded. Now, what do you have for me?”

So they sat and plotted, voices low in case Dresden got struck by one of his periodic bouts of curiosity and came eavesdropping.


End file.
